


make a fist

by mr_dr_felicia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bullying, Crying, Gen, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Bonding, Younger characters, a tutorial by mari, how to be a badass older sis, mari-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 06:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15164300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_dr_felicia/pseuds/mr_dr_felicia
Summary: Thirteen-year old Mari teaches her six-year old brother how to throw a punch.





	make a fist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kashoku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kashoku/gifts).



> i don't know a thing about fights and punching so everything mari says is from lifehacker.com

“I never pegged you as the type to like boybands.”

“Hm?”

Goro flicked at her magazine. It was jarring enough to make the thirteen-year old flinch, hands swiping the magazine around to gape at the cover. Mari growled. “You dented Nakai Masahiro’s face!”

She flicked him right back; this time aiming for his forehead. “Ow!”  

Mari huffed, adjusting her hold on her bag. “You deserved it.”

“I’m guessing Nakai-san is your favorite, then?” Goro said a moment later, apparently forgetting what asking about Mari’s interest in boybands usually got him. He sighed. “I’m _way_ cuter than him anyway.”

“Ew, don’t call him Nakai-san.” Mari turned the cover to face Goro. “And Tsyuyoshi Kusanagi is much cuter than both of you.”

Goro frowned, eyes scanning the cover. Tsyuyoshi Kusanagi stared up at him from the corner, all large eyes and angular lines. Mari barked out a laugh before pulling back, eyes glued onto the article she’d been reading earlier.

Walking home with Goro had become routine, their routes the same until she had to pick Yuuri up from Minako’s studio. They rarely spoke during club meetings, but Mari supposed it was because she was usually around the team captain, a fifteen-year old middle school senior that supposedly liked Mari’s cool demeanor. After Kyodo club she had quite a walk before reaching Minako’s, and that left her and Goro ample time to learn how to bug each other just right.

“Anyway, how’s – isn’t that your brother?”

Mari stuffed the magazine under her arm and ran, school and club bag thumping painfully against her back. She knew Goro understood— he got along well enough with Yuuri, his airheaded humor simple enough to make her kid brother find it funny. He’d go on home alone, but come tomorrow he’d be asking an endless array of questions.

She saw him a few moments later, a small powder blue lump with a head of black hair as untamable as hers. “Yuuri!”

Her little six-year old brother looked up. He still wore the same clothes he’d left the house in. A faint flush covered his cheeks, but his skin was dry and his hair fluffy and not matted to his forehead. He hadn’t gotten into Minako’s studio. Mari bit her lip.

She was breathing heavily; she’d never had her brother’s stamina. Sweat ran down her temples and she was sure she smelled and looked half-mad with her hair slicked back by her headband.  

“Can I sit?”

Yuuri nodded mutely, scooching over on the sidewalk’s edge. The building Minako’s studio was in was on the other side of the street, windows bright with a golden light that shone through the sheer curtains. Mari sat, eyes glued to her brother’s face as he stared at the golden-brown shadows moving in the window. The summer air was hot and still as she though of what to say. Eventually, she nudged him with her shoulder. “You know, I bombed that test I was studying for last night.”

That was a lie. She’d gotten a perfect score, but the lie was worth it when Yuuri nudged her back. “You’ll do better next time.”

His voice was small. He was small. From this angle when Mari looked down she saw the top of his head, his back curved and head bowed. She decided then and there.

“Get up, I’m gonna teach you something.” She planted a hand on his head, ruffling the short black strands. 

Yuuri almost protested, and then he glanced up and saw the look Mari gave him whenever he’d forgotten to do his chores and was caught playing in the yard. He knew Mari was ignoring his skipped ballet class on purpose. “Ok,” he relented.

He stood and faced Mari, the two standing in the empty sidewalk. Mari shouldered her bags off and rolled her shoulders, watching her kid brother do the same. When she bent to reach her toes, he bent perfectly in half, flexible as a green twig. “Alright. Today I’m gonna teach you how to throw a punch.”

Yuuri’s eyes bulged. “Wha—”

“Make a fist,” Mari said, lifting a hand up. Yuuri followed, more out of habit than actual desire to learn. “Your thumb should be outside—yes, like that. Make sure you don’t ever punch with your thumb inside your fist.”

She crouched, hands adjusting Yuuri's thumb until it sat perfectly between his second and third knuckles. She raised his arm, aligned his knuckles and forearm, and bent his wrist the slightest bit. "Ok, now you're gonna want to hit me using these," her fingers tapped on the ridges of her brother's knuckles, small and painful if used correctly. "Not here, alright?" She brushed against the first section of finger beneath his knuckles. "That'll make it hurt. Alot."

She grinned, removing her hand to splay it in front of Yuuri. "Punch into my palm with all you got."

Yuuri looked at her for a second before complying. Mari almost laughed. He moved like a dancer, all grace even when he was absolutely failing. "Alright, let me show you how that was wrong."

Mari adjusted his wrist again, instructed him to move with his torso, and made him widen his stance slightly. She straightened up to punch at the air as an example.

"I th-think I got it."

"Ok," Mari offered her hand.

Yuuri punched her. "Again."

Yuuri punched her again. A tiny spark of pain sparked from that one. "Again."

Mari stood and let her brother practice, letting him punch at her arm when her hand got a good case of pins and needles. After about twenty, he’d gotten pretty good, enough to make a lasting memory on any kid that deserved it. Mari was sure she’d be a bit red if not actually bruised from the lesson and she was a second away from asking Yuuri to stop when suddenly let his arm drop, hands coming up instead to rub at his face.

Fat tears slid down his chubby cheeks, anger making her brother’s face flush a bright red. “I’m not weird for liking ballet. Eiji was wrong— stupid and wrong—"

Mari swooped him into a hug. She remembered Eiji— he was some snot-nosed kid that teased Yuuri worse than that Nishigori boy.

Snot and tears stained her school blouse as Yuuri kept talking, voice a stuttery mess: “He said boys shouldn’t be dancing—but what does he know? I love it. I love ballet. I love dancing.”

Yuuri had soft skin. Words left scathing marks on his heart and his own fear ate him from inside out. Even now Mari knew he’d be a bit softer than she was, no matter what she taught him. But under the soft layers of his skin he had the strongest heart, competitive and driven. He’d danced himself to sleep countless times (Mari never told their mother and Yuuri always woke up curious as to how he’d made it to his bed) and wheedled Minako into teaching him more advanced techniques whenever she was at the onsen. “Yeah, I know.”

When his hiccups started to quiet into sharp inhales Mari let him go, stooping to grab her bags as well as his small backpack filled with his leotards and ballet shoes. “We’ll take the long way home today, yeah? I’ll even buy you an ice cream.”

Yuuri grinned at that, and Mari was glad. They bought ice cream and a bag of chips to share on their way home, the sky aflame by the time they arrived. A few days later, she was scolded because Yuuri had punched Eiji hard enough to knock out a loose baby tooth to prove that he was ‘still a boy’. But Yuuri had pulled her down to whisper that he hadn’t regretted doing it, and it was all worth it, she thought.

Her brother had soft skin and a strong heart, and damn it all if she didn’t at least try to help him coax that strength out to the surface.

  

**Author's Note:**

> I'll put this at the end so everyone else can skip it, but i don't know how else to reach out so here it is.  
> Kashoku, I was shocked when I read that you were bullied out of a fandom you clearly loved, loved enough to write 10+ fics about, and for some reason it's been eating at me. I don't know you outside of ao3, but for some reason I was really saddened by what happened to you, enough that I knew I had to at least try and reach out.  
> This fic is far from the kind of stuff you're most known for, but I've been writing this on and off for a month now and when I found out what happened to you I finished it up as quickly as I could. Your writing is one of the best in the fandom, one of the best I've read on ao3, and even when I tried to stop myself from reading omerta since i knew it was dark and couldn't possibly end well, i still read through the whole thing haha. It was just that good.  
> So, this is just me saying that i love your work and I needed something to pile all my emotions into. :')  
> I'm sorry if this was invasive or came at a bad time orz


End file.
